𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝗔𝗣𝗘𝗫 𝗟𝗘𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦
𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺 // 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 // 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪-𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺 !!
[𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐃]

JVL
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Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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Today's Document
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YOU ARE THE REASON

if i look back, i am lost
RMH
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@forwardscouting
𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝗔𝗣𝗘𝗫 𝗟𝗘𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦
𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺 // 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 // 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪-𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺 !!
[𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐃]
i just think that if you shoot and break path’s grapple line when he’s mid-swing that he’s entitled to financial compensation by you
NAT.
Wattson sighed softly over the phone line as she listened to Pathfinder’s explanation, though the exhale wasn’t made due to disappointment, but rather sadness that people still manipulated the good natured MRVN. Kindness should not be rewarded with criminals abusing it; Natalie felt sorry for her friend. “I see…” Natalie replied quietly as Pathfinder finished his retelling. There was noise in the background, signaling that the engineer was getting out of her warm and cozy bed. “We can talk more about this later, when you’re safe and sound. I’ll… I’ll get dressed and come to the city, I suppose! Just hold tight for now– and if any other gentleman tries to get you to do anything, do not listen to them, mon ami! Tell them you are busy waiting and you cannot assist.” Natalie was fairly certain someone would try and get Pathfinder involved in an escape plan.
IT TAKES SOME TIME TO REACH THE FACILITY, enough so that by then a certain late-night sluggishness has settled over both the staff and the inmates. Pathfinder is surprisingly harder to notice at first glance of the cell; folded up and sitting on the floor in the corner in an almost boxed form. At the detection of motion, his lens optic powers on; a soft red-orange in the dimmed lighting. He rises to a stand, hydraulics whirring from the motion before crossing over to the door.
Briefly, his screen blinks to a smiley face in greeting, before turning to a question mark.
“Hi friend. Thanks again for coming to help. I’m so sorry to have woken you up like this.” He pauses, and then, “... I hope you’re not mad at me. You’re the only one that picked up.”
REVENANT.
“See? No ceremony. No MINGLING.” The sim finally dropped into a seat on the couch; one of the middle seats, so that if the robot sat beside him, it would be easy for him to scoot over. He reached for the remote off the coffee table and switched the TV on to start browsing for something to watch.
“No,” Revenant answered, perhaps with surprising EASE considering what great risk questions about his previous life were to one’s well-being. The subject was a gamble most of the Legends didn’t like to take. Some questions didn’t seem to phase him at all… Others resulted in broken BONES, broken furniture.
Though, the same could be said of any conversation with Revenant really.
HE KNOWS WHAT HE HAS TO DO NOW. It will take a bit of time, and a bit of research, then a bit of coordination, but it’s clear. Revenant will only become his brother if it’s a ceremony, if it means something, and Pathfinder understands. The bond that siblings have are important, and sometimes important things have to be worked for. He can do that! Especially for his friend.
Pathfinder makes no motion to sit. The last few times, the sharper juts of his frame tore and snagged on the cushions; his added weight certainly doesn’t help, either. Elliott had complained, and said he wasn’t allowed to sit there anymore. So instead, the MRVN only stands hovering behind the couch and near Revenant’s shoulder.
“I don’t have a brother either. I have a son though-” One he’s still searching for. Maybe he should talk to Mary about that? “-But I’m very glad we could come to a conclusion. I’ll prepare a ceremony, then we can both have brothers by becoming brothers. Exciting!”
He’s lying pancaked on the ground, but manages - just barely - to offer a thumbs-up. “I’m okay!”
SENTENCE MEME ⟶ WILDERMYTH / the angels of the lord unlaughing always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.
‘when i asked you to come with me on a little trip… i didn’t tell you how far we might be going.’
i worry that death waits for us there.’
‘following a dream is a kind of last resort. for those who can’t go back to sleep.’
‘hey, no need for the… i didn’t see you had weapons.’
‘you keep a nice table…’
‘i chose a lucky spot, but i had the advantage of dreaming it.’
‘dreams. no one understands your dreams but you.’
‘people are only well-shorn beasts.’
‘i’m creaking through my final years.’
‘i dreamed this place would be devoured by flames.’
‘i could live that way. but i’ve already got you to fill my heart with.’
‘seems like a real banquet of horrors here, huh?’
‘he perfected the time-honoured art of not doing a damn thing.’
‘i guess you had no choice, huh?’
‘we’ll save who’s saveable.’
‘i’m just saying, when the job needs doing, and needs doing quickly.. some of us bash the skulls. and others stand in the corner and commune with the furniture.’
‘whatever you do, do it quic—MMPH!’
‘that was spectacular, i must admit.’
‘jewel of the wilds, we should call you.’
‘we’re here for the ugly work.’
‘they’re willing to do what’s needed. no matter what it might cost them.’
‘you think i’m a reckless fool, then?’
‘sometimes the hardest thing is to listen to sense when it sounds like cowardice.’
‘the best we can do is keep moving and hope to leave peace in our wake.’
‘hey. i got a splinter.’
‘got the blood we share on it. whatever happens, it’s a memory.’
‘have you ever met a person who has a second soul?’
‘there’s something i’ve been meaning to say.’
‘for all her faults, taking that woman’s life… will weigh on me.’
‘the world offers us tools, if we’ll take them.’
‘explain what you were thinking.’
‘there’s probably a beautiful woman trapped in there. she’ll never forget the face of her saviour. want to borrow my mirror real quick?’
‘hitting them with pointy things seems to work fine, too.’
‘don’t overthink it. don’t be like me. come on.’
‘i bet you’ve got, like, clay-mud for a heart. bramble lungs.’
‘you look like you’re about to go belly-up in the whiskey-pond.’
‘is that really what you’re planning on wearing, though?’
‘bringing the thought-self and the meat-self together begins with your name. but it’s only the beginning!’
‘but what about biceps? they’re meaningless now?’
‘all i’m saying is, maybe it’s not right of us to go stealing from the dead.’
‘she never did like to take a life, and i never did like to make her.’
‘this is maybe the twelfth magic ring i’ve found in one of these things. i have no idea why they do it.’
‘the end wasn’t… i wish it hadn’t ended the way it did.’
‘i figured we’d patch things up when she came back. and then she didn’t.’
‘something weird is going on. everyone is just so… happy.’
‘ah, anger. i’d almost forgotten this feeling.’
@lichteeth said: “where did you get that? who gave it to you?” - zer0
“SOMEONE DROPPED IT. HE WAS REALLY IN A HURRY - I TRIED CALLING FOR HIM, but he didn’t even hear me!” The wallet is flipped open, and Pathfinder takes a second to record and save the image of the ID contained within before looking at the person before him. They don’t match the ID (not that there’s a face to go off of, but they also don’t match the height and weight parameters), so Pathfinder makes no move to give it to them. His screen flickers, a bright green exclamation point now visible. “Would you be willing to help me find him? I’m afraid I don’t know anyone here, but you seem trustworthy. I think all friends with swords are trustworthy, actually!”
@feathercall said: “where did you get that? who gave it to you?”
“NO ONE DID. I FOUND IT THE POCKET OF A COAT HANGING ON THE WALL.” A coat that now seems to be draped around his shoulders, as if it’s some poorly fitted disguise to be worn. The keys clink in hand, and he holds it up to Xayah now for her to take. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop; if anything, he can’t control the ability to listen or not-listen to what’s overheard. So when he did hear that her and her friend needed a key to free some people, he obliged; forgetting the purpose of being a lookout entirely. “This is what you need to let your friends out, isn’t it?”
@prkh said: “did you find what you were looking for?” // [MEME]
“I DID.” HE STILL NEEDS TIME TO SIFT THROUGH THE NEWFOUND INFORMATION and come to a conclusion. Maybe that’s why he’s here. There was that moment, and it felt like darkness, until Ramya had spoken to him. Where one person knew all the right words to hurt Pathfinder, Ramya knew all the right words to help and inspire him. As she picks through a plethora of tools in one of her storage containers, Pathfinder stands there, as if unsure.
“I wanted to thank you for helping me earlier, actually.” He finally says. A paper bag is set on the table, the smell of some savory dish perfuming the air. If his memory files serve him correctly, this is her favorite place to eat in Solace, and this is right around when she gets hungry, too. “Without you, I might never have found the truth, and I want you to know that I really appreciate our friendship.”
JINX.
❛ MADAMES explosion. semantics i know —— tweezers would be GREAT. can’t go `round with one of these poppin` out all over th` place. a girl’s got wanted posters to pose for y` know. have to let them catch my good side ; AKA , all sides. wink wink. ❜
fully autonomous systems ? artificial intelligence that seems to be self learning ? ( or it at least replicates it well enough. pretty sure there a book about this …. ) screen lights up with that yellow glow &. lids widen , widen , widen ———- smiley face reflecting off hues &. their roseate glow staring right back into screen like owl stalking prey.
❛ hmmmm , jus` one look an` you look too advanced t` be piltie’s golden boy’s work. his partner ? nah. singed ? that old coot couldn’t even imagine makin` one of you … aww , you’re gonna go an` make a girl blush. oh of course , of course ! i’m DEFINITELY lookin` forward to this friendship. like , how could anyone not be happy to see you ?! ❜
❛ look at you. you’re PERFECT. now lets uh , get off th` street an` we can talk about this here friendship over … do you drink coffee ? or like , motor oil ? ❜
HE PATS THE SPARE COMPARTMENTS AT HIS SIDE BEFORE A PANEL POPS OPEN. With quick precision, a small kit is extracted from the side of his leg, and from within the kit he offers Jinx a pair of tweezers. “Wow, you have your own wanted posters? Multiple ones? What is it that you want - besides tweezers?”
It’ll take him a bit to realize her true meaning. It also takes him a bit to process her train -- trains -- of thought. Jinx seems to work quickly, clicking through a list of suspects, formulating hypotheses and jumping to the next natural conclusion for her. He doesn’t understand what it means, lacking the context of golden boys or whoever’s been singed and - is that why she says she’s going to blush? From the heat?
He’s not human, but he wonders if being called perfect would make someone blush, too. Pathfinder isn’t used to nice things said to him; he also isn’t the best at understanding chicanery or ulterior motives, either. So instead, his screen blinks pink; an emote with bubbly hearts for eyes in response to the compliment.
“Temperatures are above the comfortable range for humans here. Getting off the street would be ideal for you then; streets absorb more heat and therefore yield a higher temperature. Not good.” He follows at her prompting, machinery whirring as he hops out of the way and towards where Jinx guides him. “Your offer is very appreciated! However, I don’t have a mouth, and I don’t need a refuel. What do you like to drink?”
LOBA.
Her stretching comes to a quiet halt with her back to him. She knows, deep down, that he’s teasing her… and yet, somehow, she can’t shake the feeling that this whole ‘cheerfully naïve’ act was just that: an act. He’s playing her, playing everyone, just like a- Heh.
“Good one, Pathfinder.” Really, he had the entire squad laughing there. She slinks off the wall then, runs a few fingers along the grooves of her jump drive, and takes note of the dropship approaching from the south. Countdown.
“Everything in life is transactional. The VALUE of ‘friends’ might not be equated often, but it’s there. What can this ‘friend’ do for me, what can ‘I’ do for this friend, That’s just how things are. Pure, selfless friendship? Doesn’t exist here. It wilts away, like- Hm.”
CHEERFULLY NAIVE OR POLITELY UNINTERESTED? The verdict on where Pathfinder lies on that spectrum is a mystery best left unsolved. For now, humor cuts apart the ambiguity, and they both lack the naivete in this step of social dialogue to know the important step here is to side step and move on.
“Commodifying the love, companionship and goodwill of friends can have an negative effect. Over time, it can cause those friends to distance themselves from you because they might think you don’t care beyond that.” A pause. Were he human, it might almost seem studious. “Unless that’s what you intend to happen.” Would it? Could she be doing so in an effort to prevent experiencing what he had seen happen in that restaurant on Psamathe all those years ago? Even if that were the case, it’s something he knows he shouldn’t ask outright. So instead, he asks, “Wilts away like what?”
CHARLIE.
There was a time when Charlie had painstakingly reconstructed a busted automaton the excavators dug up on Blackreef - not because he had to, and not because he anticipated much prestige from it (though he certainly deserved it). He’d done it because he wanted to. Because he thought it was amazing. It was technological marvel worth preserving.
Robots have always fascinated him. Ever since he was a kid. They’re these artificial approximations of life, wonders manmade, the intersection between artist and engineer coalescing to recreate the human condition from nuts and bolts.
There was a time when he could have looked at Pathfinder and seen infinite avenues of potential. Now, all he sees are his own failures. Pathfinder is everything he couldn’t achieve.
“What? Shift?” Charlie looks down at his arm, where the scrubbed metal is embedded by supernatural magnitude. It shudders, slightly, as he coaxes it awake - the pieces fracture, lifting in the air like lungs pulling in a deep breath. Then the pieces spin, mid-air, in whimsical anticipation.
With a flick of the wrist, he teleports behind Pathfinder.
“It’s ‘cause of my slab. I don’t know. I can teleport with it.” The very faintest hum of purple swirls at his feet. In seconds, it is gone. “Wenjie made them.”
SCANNING THE DEVICE ON CHARLIE’S ARM YIELDS NO RESULTS. Its composition, material, structure don’t appear to match any known source. Any known source where he’s from, Pathfinder clarifies internally; each dimension is different, so Renee tells him. Each of its wonders and horrors are different, too. When Charlie shifts once more, the MRVN only does a few hops to turn around; audio receptors tracking the location of his voice.
“You’re the second person I’ve met that’s mentioned ‘Wenjie’ to me. They must be important.” And mean, if Fia’s account is anything to go off of. He doesn’t verbalize that part out loud, because it generally isn’t a polite thing to say.
“I did a riddle with that friend which involved slabs, but I didn’t understand what the slabs were or what each gift was.” He recalls the video logs of their failed exchange. “Harriet has Reprise, Colt has Nexus, and Aleksis has Masquerade. I have no idea who these people are, but it sounds like Wenjie worked very hard to make sure each of you had a slab. They must love you all very much.”
hes babey
NAT.
Wattson was not one for confrontation. She was a peacemaker, willing to compromise and work with others despite differences. She knew how to hold her tongue and swallow down her negative emotions; she could be good like everyone needed her to be. But betrayal– from someone who had taken a familial role in her life– that caused simmered emotions to boil and bubble to the surface. Pain, confusion, distress; it leaked into every syllable that she hurled at Doctor Caustic. And nothing he said worked to quell those emotions. He wouldn’t apologize, wouldn’t see the harm he had caused by using her like a chess piece. She wasn’t a pawn to be manipulated. When nothing had come from their heated discussion, Natalie turned to leave the Doctor in his own miserable little section of the drop ship, only for her wrist to be seized by him. There was more back and forth– a bit more desperation from the larger Legend– and then Natalie tugged to try and free herself from his grip. She wasn’t budging. A dull pain started to throb in her joint. Their argument must’ve gotten out of hand as a familiar MRVN appeared at Natalie’s side. She barely had time to process what jovial words had been spoken by her new companion when suddenly a metal fist flew past her and struck the Doctor across the jaw, successfully removing the hold on her wrist and sending the Doctor to the floor. “Mon dieu!!” Natalie exclaimed with wide eyes, her pupils flicking rapidly between the two Legends. Should she thank Pathfinder or scold him? She… Wasn’t really sure.
ON THE SIDE OF THE JAW, THERE’S A VULNERABLE POINT THAT - when hit with just enough force - can cause the brain to rattle, effectively knocking someone unconscious. It isn’t a pleasant experience, but it isn’t ( usually ) fatal, either. At best, Dr. Caustic will wake with a migraine and an even further disdain for the usually chipper MRVN.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Pathfinder states. Carefully, he lifts Caustic up to lay him to rest in a chair within his quarter area of the ship. He returns soon after, his head lowering to look at her wrist.
“Did he hurt you? Sometimes people do that by accident in the heat of the moment. And sometimes, it’s not an accident.” Pathfinder hopes it’s the former - Mikhail ( or should he call him Alexander now? ) seems callous and unkind to others, but he’s also a man of reason. He also seems to care about Ms. Paquette deeply, even if he doesn’t show it.
But that doesn’t mean that excuses when family and loved ones are hurt. Pathfinder realizes the same could be applied to him, before reasoning that his actions were a result of protecting Nat. He’ll have to think about the moral ramifications of this when performing his daily diagnostics tonight.
“Do you want to talk about what happened, friend?”
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔?
love you!
it's the "i love you" we use every time we finish up a call with our mom, every time we want to offer our friends a bit of encouragement, the welcome home kiss on the cheek we give our lover every day. it's sending them pictures you know they'll laugh at, buying them strange little nothings that you know they'll like. it's having their bagel order memorized and setting their birthday as your password. somehow, their name weaves its way into almost every funny story you share with others. it's brief, casual, it's a habit. we aren't even aware we do it. it says that love is cradled lightly in your heart, generously given, spilling out into the world unbeknownst to you, making up the web of delicate threads that hold us all together.
tagged by: i steal
tagging: you steal
XAYAH.
Xayah leans down to examine the unconscious men. Humans, all of them. This far out of their own lands, they must have either been poachers or traders. And their equipment and the number of weapons in their cart didn’t imply friendly merchants. So, no net loss.
Then, flicking an ear back, she examines the stranger instead. Some sort of construct. Metal things in Ionia always make her nervous; her tribe had been far from the epicenter of the Noxian invasion years back, but not so far that they had been kept free of it. Nobody had been kept free of it. But the stranger didn’t look like a machine of Noxian make. All neat angles and unnatural construction, sure, but missing the hint of ominous architecture that all Noxian-made things came with.
Not Piltovan either. Not enough gold and gears. So what, then?
❝ …no worries. whoever knocked them out did me a favor, if anything. ❞ She replies, tone slow and a little wary. She twitches an ear, and then flicks a violet dagger into her hand from out of thin air, ❝ honestly, it would probably be best if someone killed them before they wake up— ❞
MOST OF THE TIME, IN SITUATIONS LIKE THESE, PATHFINDER WOULD BE MET WITH DERISION OR PUNISHMENT. Instead, the person before her seems less concerned by the humans, and more perplexed by him. That perplexity is mutual; he’s never seen someone with ears like hers before ( are they an accessory? A modification? ). At the sight of the dagger, he only has more questions.
And then, he has alarm.
“Please don’t do that, friend. That’s not a nice or fair thing to do.” They’re unconscious, unable to even defend themselves, and for all he knows, they’re innocent. He hopes she isn’t serious, that this is another joke someone makes the way Revenant makes jokes ( though a part of him knows, truly, that half of Revenant’s jokes are steeped in truth ). He hopes she doesn’t decide to do so, as that will force him to respond in kind. “Why would you want to do that? You don’t even know them.”
CHARLIE.
“Uh, not Fiz-Pop. It facilitates cell regrowth.” With some minor side effects, if not consumed in moderation. He can’t remember what they were, though, so they probably weren’t very dangerous.
“No? It’s different. I’m human, and I was born with a brain. But you’re already a robot. It’s just re-distributing existing technology into two separate units. Like… if I cut a computer in half, I don’t suddenly have two new computers. I just have one broken computer.”
Somewhere, in the farthest corner of his leftover grey matter, he recognizes the irony in what he’s saying. He dulls the horror by thoroughly projecting it.
“I basically BIRTHED 2-BIT out of my forehead like a fucking ANCIENT GOD, so - NO, we are not the same. I am a GENIUS and you are just a STUPID ROBOT.”
“SO WHY IS IT CALLED ‘FIZ’-POP IF THERE’S NO CARBONATION? Does carbonation exist in this dimension?” Hm. That’s something to think about! He wonders if there are any people here that specialize in scientific fields that he can ask questions, or maybe there’s a place with books for him to read. He thinks he heard mention about a library earlier, but still hasn’t found it yet.
“It wouldn’t be broken, friend. Just separated. With some added adjustments, parts, maintenance, and attention, both can work and operate independently.” If he were in search of more answers, or just bold enough to pry, he might ask more questions on Charlie’s beliefs behind that statement. But he has learned by now that Charlie is quick to emotions before processing the rest of the information available. So instead, he, the stupid robot that he is accused of being, processes the information available in instead.
Charlie says he is human and born with a brain, which is an odd statement to make as statistically, most humans are.
He also said he birthed 2-BIT out of his forehead, which is also an odd statement since humans do not have birthing cavities located on their foreheads > Charlie mentions an ancient god and says he gave birth to 2-BIT the same way > The Greek god “Zeus” was able to birth the goddess Athena from his forehead > Gods do not need birthing canals on their foreheads to give birth > However, his hat covers his forehead
Hypotheses: > Charlie is a human with a birthing canal on his forehead, which he hides by wearing a hat > Charlie is not a human and is lying, but has a birthing canal on his forehead > Charlie is an ancient god
He decides to test this hypothesis by asking, “Can I see your forehead?”